Tragodía
by harasvin
Summary: No more. No fucking more. "I can't shed anymore tears for him. Nor can I live without having him...this..this is it. This is where it ends."
1. Chapter 1

She's finally had enough. Molly Hooper looks out at the cold city before her, the sky a deary gray with no sign of life. "Where's the color?" she desperately thinks. "Where is the life in this city? Why has everything gone black and white?". She's been standing at the window in her lab for a good three hours now. Couldn't make herself to do anything else after she slapped Sherlock Holmes in the face. She slapped him a _few times_, thank you very much.

Dr. Hooper finally lost it, she thinks, bemused. "I don't feel anything, why is that?", she asks her reflection. It stays silent like it always does when Sherlock Holmes is concerned. "He didn't give a flying fuck about anyone, going about like that!...He doesn't care at all. He doesn't even value me as a friend", that quiet voice in her head said.

No more. No fucking more. "I can't shed anymore tears for him. Nor can I live without having him...this.._this_ is it. This is where it ends."


	2. Chapter 2

**Greeting to fellow readers, I'm new at this so please forgive mistakes and if you have any helpful tips please feel free to leave a review. Reviews make the world a better place. If you plan to leave a review that is rude, I will not respond. This story does not have a beta. Any suggestions are also welcome and now, back to the story.**

Chapter 2

"Flight AW378's last call ladies and gentlemen", the mildly distorted male voice announced. Molly consulted her last minute check list. "Flight check in, done. Luggage check in, done. Security check, done. All that's left is to walk in to the plane and never look back." A sad smile flashes. Soon to be done.

She straightens her spine, gathers the tatters of her courage and walks to the boarding gate. Flying to the United States to take the offered position of Chief Medical Examiner in Maine was not a bad decision. She could be doing worse. A lot worse. Molly finally said yes to the offer after years of declining the medical examiner's office in Maine. She always had something holding her back at . Or someone.

She gave her notice in 24 hours, threated her ex-boss with violence if he breathed a word to anyone before she left. Left her apartment for now, she'd sort out the renting when things are more settled in her life. She didn't need the cash urgently and the new position grants her a higher salary so she needn't worry about the finances for now. All she wanted to do was leave.

"Excuse me miss, do you need anything?", the question jolts her from her reverie. A cute flight attendant all spiffy in his uniform looks down on her, concerned. "No, thanks. I'm fine", she gives a small smile and turns to look out the window. They were scheduled to take off in 4 minutes, but it seems like 4 hours to Molly. She relaxes into her seat; first class has it perks and tries to shut down. "I just need to be numb till I get there", and then her mind ignores her and thinks of the note she left Mary Morstan. She couldn't bring herself to walk out on John and Mary. Hence the stupid note, she angrily chides herself. "But Mary probably won't read it till tomorrow and I'd be safe." _Safe_. What a word to use, as if she was in mortal danger.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking..."


	3. Chapter 3

**Greeting to fellow readers, I'm new at this so please forgive mistakes and if you have any helpful tips please feel free to leave a review. Reviews make the world a better place. If you plan to leave a review that is rude, I will not respond. This story does not have a beta. Any suggestions are also welcome and now, back to the story.**

Chapter 3

"The morphine drip needs to go", he thinks distractedly. "I don't need it, bad for..work", chides himself. The pain was intense but not unbearable. At least not for .

But it's neither the pain nor the case that bothers him now, it's Hooper. Why had she come into his mind when he was shot? Why her? He could have easily deduced the damage of the bullet and which way to fall. Why her? Why her voice? How did she get into his organized mind?

He hadn't dealt with the fact that she'd actually slapped him a few times after the urine test. Never would he have thought little would have the guts to stand up to him in any way. And why was he elated when he found that her engagement ring was not present in the stinging slaps he'd never know. Shaking her off his mind, Sherlock focused on more pressing things. Like the case.


	4. Chapter 4

**Greeting to fellow readers, I'm new at this so please forgive mistakes and if you have any helpful tips please feel free to leave a review. Reviews make the world a better place. If you plan to leave a review that is rude, I will not respond. This story does not have a beta. Any suggestions are also welcome and now, back to the story. *This follows up from season three, so spoiler alert***

Chapter 4

The cold Maine air greets her like an old friend. She breathes deeply, happy to see the dark blue sky and tall towering trees. She rented a cabin in Mi-woods, Maine on a whim. She suddenly craved the silence and privacy. The medical examiner's office confirmed she could start in two weeks' time, so she decided to look into other things. Sleep and food, for example.

The cabin was beautiful, with two rooms and a spacious living area. It came with a kitchen so Molly was excited to start cooking. Cooking used to be therapeutic till she lost interest in eating. "Well, that's going to change. A hot shower and perhaps a cup of cocoa. Then lots of sleep", she gleefully plotted. It's been awhile since she'd felt this free. The chains that held her captive have been thrown off in London. "I will not think. I don't want to think. I just need to learn how to live by the hour", she distractedly thinks while admiring the view of the lake in the living room. The cabin had a fireplace with all the workings of a typical hunting cabin. She loved it.

The bed was big and so comfortable; she resisted the urge to curl into the quilt and sleep. It was twilight now, and the stars were out blinking awake from their sleep from day. She could hear crickets, was it crickets? She didn't give a damn about what it was, it was just wonderful to be away from cars, buses, rude people and the clogged air of London. "Stop, stop there", she told her mind quietly. "That's all I'm glad to be away from, for now." She threw off her travelling clothes, goose bumps appearing on her skin because of the chilly air and stepped into the shower and tuned everything off.

Wrapping herself in a thick cotton yukata, she went to the kitchen to make the cup of cocoa. "Oh what the heck, I'll throw in the marshmallows too", she laughed and got to work. Laughing felt good. She didn't laugh or joke around much in general and when she was with Tom she'd been pretty much the same. Tom. That relationship was a lifetime ago. They'd broken it off a few days after Sherlock returned. She didn't feel too bad about it though, she was used to it. "Perhaps one day I can write a book about all the fuck ups I've subjected myself to", she mused while stirring the milk into the cocoa.

Meanwhile in London...

John still could not believe that he saw his friend (best friend at times, depending on what skullduggery Sherlock was doing) shoot a man point blank. Sherlock just killed a man and shrugged it off. Well, not shrugged it off but it was unsettling how he made the decision to take a life in a split second. And Sherlock had said, "Give me love to Mary, John", then turned away to face the guns. The finality of the moment was still sending tremors to his whole being. John could have lost his friend, all over again.

Sherlock looked down from the plane; it was gaining altitude after the takeoff minutes ago. He didn't say goodbye to Molly. He wanted to. He wanted to fix this puzzle. Why was he getting attached to her? Why kiss her on the cheek? Why look her in the eyes? Why take her slaps and her anger AND feel disgusted with himself for letting her down? He'd never wanted any sort of intimate relationship with a woman and why does he feel a void developing in him now?

"Sir, it's your brother", Sherlock turned away from the window and took the offered phone. "Brother dear...England needs you".

An omnipresent being watches from the shadows. It welcomes the east wind to bring disaster to all.


	5. Chapter 5

**Greeting to fellow readers, I'm new at this so please forgive mistakes and if you have any helpful tips please feel free to leave a review. Reviews make the world a better place. If you plan to leave a review that is rude, I will not respond. This story does not have a beta. Any suggestions are also welcome and now, back to the story. ** Much love to the lovely Larie for sending the first review and to all that followed and added this story as a favorite. Made my day****

Chapter 5

Sherlock was thinking if Mycroft would let him get away with breaking the 40-inch flat screen TV to smithereens. HOW could he be alive? His mind was racing but no possibilities came to mind. Rather, the thinking machine was rapidly being overwhelmed by anger. Mind blinding anger.

"We need to get anyone that was associated with you to safety. We can take no chances with this demon.", Mycoft barked at him and turned away shooting orders by the second. Still as a rock, Sherlock realized his brother was right. The people he cared about were the main reason he "died" in the first place. The people he cared about were his strength and weakness. Mentally he started to take count of everyone that needed to be brought in to safety. , John, Mary, Molly,...Molly!", his mind jolted. She was the main reason why he was alive now and if he learnt anything about Moriaty, he would _never _make the same mistake twice. Moriaty would have known that Molly was the key reason why Sherlock had his heart still beating.

"Find Molly, bring her in NOW", he commaned Mycroft and shot of the room. He has unfinished business with the devil.

Late morning, Maine ...

"Fuck this", she growled at the ceiling and threw off the covers. So much for getting some sleep. Flashes of a face with curly brown hair and soul penetrating ice grey eyes ruining her sleep. Getting into the shower she mentally broke all the vases and mirrors. It was the only way to deal with the anger or else she'd have to pay for all the broken pottery by the end of her stay. Much cheaper to do it mentally.

Hot water ran down her back, rivulets of it played downwards thru her flat belly. She retained her curves even with the lack of appetite but she could use a few pounds back into her body. Molly Hooper had been blessed with a beautiful body, firm breasts always hidden away with blouses too large, her waist had curves and joined long lean legs that had ex-boyfriends pleasantly surprised when the clothes were off. She washed her long silky brown hair, now at her waist length. She thought about getting it cut but decided to keep it long for now. Keeps her face hidden when required.

Meanwhile, 's mobile phone would be ringing without intervals if only she had bothered to switch it on. She decided not to because she wasn't feeling up to talking to Mary or anyone else from London. Not now, and maybe not ever. It was so easy, this moving into another country. "That's what happens when you have no one. No family, no friends and no one that loves you", she says to her reflection, distorted by the steam. Or was it tears?


	6. Chapter 6

**Greetings to fellow readers, I'm new at this so please forgive mistakes and if you have any helpful tips please feel free to leave a review. Reviews make the world a better place. If you plan to leave a review that is rude, I will not respond. This story does not have a beta. Any suggestions are also welcome and now, back to the story.**

Chapter 5

"Did you miss me old chap?", grinned the crazy apparition. His eyes had the look of a man that had seen hell and liked it. The video was sent to Mycroft's office and the viewing was now attended by a tense Sherlock and a pissed off John. Why couldn't people just die when the shot themselves in the head? Like the old days? "Well, we all know now that you cheated Sherlock, liar liar pants dipped in hellfire", Moriaty giggled into the camera. "Now, I have to make you pay. You should have died Sherlock. Joined the fucking angels. Now I'm going to make everyone suffer because you refused to let me win. But I've missed our little games darling. So, I'm going to give you a head start on this one because we all know you've lost your touch. Now's here's the bonus, who gets killed first?", and the video shuts down turning the screen black.

John then realized that he was sweating. The man was a raving lunatic! He was barely sane to begin with but he seemed more..intense now. Intensely bat-shit crazy. What had happened to Moriaty while he was "dead"?

"Where's Molly?", a baritone voice asked. Mycroft turned to his younger brother, and answered in a mild voice, "We seem to have a bit of trouble locating the good doctor. We should find her in a day or two. You, Sherlock, have better things to deal with now." Sherlock gripped the edge of the oak writing table and enunciated every word as if he was speaking to an idiot," That doctor _saved_ my life. _Twice_. I suggest you _find_ her _now_, brother."

"Excuse me, Sir?" the conversation was interrupted by the pretty brunette assistant Mycroft had. " has taken the position of the Chief Medical Examiner in Maine, United States. She seemed to have left two days ago and has left no forwarding address. Her flat seems to be unoccupied and our surveillance tapes in Heathrow confirm she boarded a plane two days ago to the United States."

Sherlock's face turned to stone in anger, he disappeared from the room as soon as the assistant finished her sentance leaving Mycroft and John speechless. "John, you must stop him", Mycroft urgently turned to him. "Right" and John Watson rushed out the door. Sighing, Mycroft called in a team to shadow his younger brother. England could not afford to lose Sherlock Holmes to the United States now.


	7. Chapter 7

**Hi All, this is the last chapter I will be posting for now. More reviews would be motivating . Reviews\comments would tell me if I should continue and not to worry lemons should be on the way soon. Let me know what you think! **

Chapter 7

The lake was a shiny blue mirror with birds dipping in and out of its shimmery surface. The sun was out today and Molly was dressed in black tank top, cargo pants and was contemplating the odds of being mauled by a bear if she went exploring into the woods.

It felt good to have the sun on her skin, the wind in her hair: she missed living. Putting on a pair of sunglasses, she decided to do some food shopping. Getting her handbag, she got into her rented car. A shiny black Porsche Cayenne. Safe Dr. Hooper always had a passion for speed which she did not indulge to fulfill while living in London. Now, she had the means and the freedom. She just needed to get used to driving on the other side of the road.

Just then her mobile phone vibrated. She switched it on last night, just in case there was an emergency. She forgot that it was on silent mode. "Wow, that's a lot of messages. Didn't get that many when I was living there", she thought sarcastically.

**New Message**

Sherlock : Why did you leave me?

Sherlock : Molly, please answer the phone.

Sherlock : You dense woman, answer the damn phone. Or text me.

Sherlock : Please Molly.

Molly looked at the messages in shock. What was going on? There was one message from Mycroft.

: , you might be in grave danger. Please contact the embassy in Maine or answer the phone calls. Immediately.

She leaned back into the leather seat in the Porsche. Speed. It has always given her a high that safe little Molly didn't get elsewhere because Molly Hooper was always in control. No drugs. Minimal alcohol. No partying. Speed was the one vice that she couldn't get rid of. She loved the adrenaline rush while driving a vehicle of precision thru winding roads. Loved the speed of a craft when it takes off the ground to fly in the great blue sky. Loved the speed. It made her forget and be free from everything. From life, hate, work, money, love, regrets, Sherlock and herself.

She knew that she really must be in danger for the Holmes brothers to be sending her so many texts and calls. She took a deep breath and smiled. Looked out that the rolling mountains out in the open, the wide open spaces with ancient trees rooted since the beginning. Here there was no end. Here life was free from everything but nature herself. She was not going to return any of the calls. Molly genuinely didn't care if she was in danger. "I accept whatever that comes. This is the end Sherlock ; I _cannot_ be a part of your life anymore. Even if it means my death." She smiles a sad yet peaceful smile and starts the car.


	8. Chapter 8

**Greetings to all, thank you for the reviews and I appreciate the follows. I shall try to make this worth your time. **

Chapter 8

The woman beneath him had given up fighting. Tears and blood stream in tiny rivers down her neck while he fucks. He's oblivious to her, she's just a tool. In his mind he's fucking another woman ; the one that betrayed him twice. Thinking of her naked and pleading to save her life, he climaxes when he puts a bullet in her head with his sick mind. He gets off the terrified woman, streches and picks up the gun on the dresser. "I'm sorry love, but this just isn't working out"...

London..

Sherlock Holmes might never step into St. Barts again. He flexed his knuckles; they were rather sore after punching the director of the facility. "_How_ could you have let her walk out? What happened to the arrangement we had? You agreed to inform me as soon as possible if she would make a stupid decision like this!", Sherlock had bellowed at the director. The short spectacled man cowered a little in the detective's presence but stood his ground. "You should have treated her a little better than dirt if you wanted her to stay", he retorted and that's when Sherlock's fist made contact with the director's pudgy cheek.

Sherlock took a deep breath and thought of Mrs. Hudson and Mary Watson being safe in a undisclosed location. Of course, they were not a hundred percent safe, no one ever was from a being like Moriaty. John refused to leave him. But Sherlock knew who Moriaty's first target was. It was really quite simple. In the video he sent to Mycroft, Moriaty was wearing a scarf identical to the one Molly had given him on that awkward Christmas.

She hasn't answered any calls or texts. Something was wrong, the Molly he knew would come running for him. What happened to her when they had last met? Ah yes, the slaps. The anger she had displayed was personal, something intimate. And he hadn't rebuffed her about it, he let her feel that way because...he liked that she cared. Disgusted with himself, he started walking aimlessly. He knew that he needed to go to her. All he need to do is convince himself that it is the only logical thing to do.


	9. Chapter 9

**Greetings to all, thank you for the reviews and I appreciate the follows. I shall try to make this worth your time. **

Chapter 9

Gravel crunched on the road as the sleek Cayenne pulled to stop in front of the cabin. Molly Hooper got the groceries and was humming a tune while managing to carry the foodstuff into the cabin. It was late evening now and she was famished. Looking forward to cooking dinner she decided to put on some music. With the radio tuned to a random country music channel (she avoided symphonies as she did not want to hear any violins), she started by boiling some water to cook the pasta. Molly was happy because she got rid of her mobile phone and the traitorous SIM card. Good thing she booked a cabin with an alias too. No internet for her till she got back to reality so she won't be logging into the email account aka the online trap either.

Getting out a baking pan, she buttered it and placed sliced bacon, onions, garlic and mushrooms with a generous amount of olive oil. She put the pan into the oven to heat while waiting for the pasta to cook. Deciding on a glass of red wine, she poured a glass and looked out the spacious kitchen window. The lake was still a mirror of the sky, all dark navy blue with bits of diamonds reflecting light. It was nirvana, in a way. Sipping her wine, she decided to buy a place situated near a forest in the near future. She loved the trees and the night sky, so unlike London. The pasta was cooked so, she strained the spaghetti in the sink, took out the baking tray and mixed everything together, placing the tray back into the oven.

Walking to hall with the wine, she stopped dead. On the coffee table was a package that she's never seen before. It was addressed to "My dear Vesper".

London ...

"You can't go after her! She probably left like this because of you! She would be safe in US, and besides Moriaty would target you not her!", exclaimed John impatiently. He could not understand why Sherlock was getting so agitated about Molly leaving. As far as he knew Sherlock did not feel anything significantly human towards Molly Hooper. "John, she saved my life. She stood by me when the world turned its back. I will not let her be harmed. So, since that is settled , you need to help me get out of surveillance and the country. I'm bringing her home." John stood agape at him, and then realized Sherlock was serious and there was no way of talking him out of this craziness.

Mi-woods, Maine..

Vesper. His name for her. It was so long ago she'd forgotten it. Vesper, the evening star. It was right after they made love for the first time, under the midnight sky when he called her that. He said she shined like the evening star and that he would always remember her that way. His very own Vesper. He died 2 weeks after they got engaged and after a year of depression she walked out of their home and made a life as a pathologist. The glass of wine crashed to the floor, the red stain pool like blood on her feet. No one she knew in London had knowledge of her past. She was not married so there were no documents to trace. And only someone who had intimate knowledge of her past would understand the meaning of the name. She tumbled to the floor as her heart constricted. She couldn't breathe, didn't want to because every breath bought back memories tinged with loss. That's all her life has been about. The loss of love. The two men she had loved in her life and they had brought the biggest void in her soul.


	10. Chapter 10

**Greetings to all, thank you for the reviews and I appreciate the follows. I shall try to make this worth your time. Reviews make me write :)**

Chapter 10

Heathrow Airport, Departure Hall..

Sherlock was in disguise. John managed to distract the surveillance away for hours after he was arrested for assaulting a police officer. "The debt I owe him grows bigger", Sherlock grimly thought. He boarded the plane, took his seat. He just needed to land in Maine and he could take control of things then. Mycroft needs to keep his cronies away till then. Fumbling for his mobile phone, he realized there was a message.

Unknown Number : Going to look for Vesper are we?

Vesper? The evening star? Who knows that he was leaving London and who was Vesper? Could the name be referring to Molly? No, that doesn't make sense, he would have known about this name if it was Molly. Sherlock switched off his mobile, nodded pleasantly to the old lady seated beside him. He closed his eyes and pretended to nod off. This was going to be a long flight.

Mi-Woods, Maine..

Molly was in bed, under the cover. She stared at the ceiling; she's been at it for hours. The untouched pasta congealing in the oven, it was very late in the night. She knew sleep would never come after what she saw. Vesper...

Ashton Lynd was a handsome man. Lean muscle, head of glossy black hair and eyes so blue they were shards of ice. They met at high school, he was always teasing her about being holed up in the library and not having fun. She teased him for flunking Biology. They lost contact after high school but met again by chance at a friend's birthday. Ashton had joined the army and was hell bent on making his career in the military. God knew he was smart. He flunked on all the papers he had no interest in, but aced everything that had kept his mind interested. Like Math, literature, Chemistry and Physics. He hated Biology. Molly was a blooming young woman with a ready laugh and twinkling eyes. She was a wholly different person then. They fell in love, passionately.

They had only been going out for five months when he proposed. By then they were already living together and were in all practical aspects, man and wife. She was just starting to decide on what to major in University when he told her that he will need to be away for a period of time. That the wedding needs to be postponed. She didn't mind, a ceremony would not affect how she felt about it. That night he tugged on her hair and whispered "Will you all right if I left for some time?". Molly turned her head to look at him and found that his eyes were troubled. Shifting on her side, she lay her head on his chest and said "As long as you return back, I suppose I can find something to occupy my time", looking at him mischievously she added, "Maybe I can find a part time boyfriend". He barked a laugh and flipped her over, covering her body with his. Biting her earlobe he growled, "If you can find someone to keep you happy like I do Hooper, then by all means please do". He made love to her till dawn appeared, and he held her close as if he wanted, no, _needed_ to disappear and she was the only haven he could seek refuge in. She kissed him goodbye before he left, a lingering kiss. That was the last time Molly Hooper saw Commander Ashton Lynd.


	11. Chapter 11

**Greetings to all, thank you for the reviews and I appreciate the follows. I shall try to make this worth your time. **

Chapter 11

"Cocaine, ecstasy or meth? ah, decisions decisions", he muttered while viewing the cornucopia of drugs before him. He didn't need to use them before The Incident, but now they were the only things that helped him keep his temper. Keeping his temper was very important. People died horribly when he got angry.

He took another puff from the roll up and relaxed. He was in a good mood today. Lover boy was on a plane to his mousy girlfriend. _Girlfriend_. He's eyes narrowed thinking of the word. Little pretty Miss Molly Hooper. Miss Goody Two Shoes who choose him _first_. He was all that she was not. And he wanted her. Especially after what a certain pawn in his network disclosed about her. "All's well that ends not so well Molly. I'm coming for you", grinned the monster while reaching for white powder in front of him.

Mi-woods, Maine

The package lay unopened on the coffee table. Molly didn't think she would have the strength of mind and heart to handle it now. Or maybe never. Ashton Lynd and Sherlock Holmes. Polar opposites yet the same. Well, they had one thing in common at least, they both had her heart. She got out of bed and took out the luggage and opened a small leather travel bag. A glass bottle yielded two pearls of pills. Molly Hooper needed oblivion for a while and it was either the pills or drinking herself to a bad hangover. Or a everlasting swim in the lake. Sighing, she swallowed the pills without bothering about the water and returned to her fortress of a bed. She didn't want to wake up for a long time yet.

Streets of Maine..

It started to rain and the cold began to seep to his clothes. But the cold never bothered Sherlock ; it made if think of home. "She would have rented a car, took accommodation somewhere near her workplace", he mused. He proceed to Google the location of the medical examiner's office. Screw the hour, it was an emergency and these was no logical reason why a morgue should be closed. The dead come and go at all hours. He turned his head up towards the grey skies and enjoyed the rain falling on face. It was refreshing, welcoming in fact after the hours spent in the plane. Sherlock then start to hail a cab lingering nearby. He got in the cab and left the streets. The two pairs of eyes watching him then started their car and followed. They were in no hurry ; they had all the time in the world.


	12. Chapter 12

**Greetings to all, thank you for the reviews and I appreciate the follows. I shall try to make this worth your time. **

Chapter 12

"May I know why you need this information about Molly Hooper , Mister...er..Cray?", the tired assistant asked. Sherlock stamped on his irritation of these useless questions and put a apologetic smile and knocked the man out. Slipping the unconscious man gracefully to the chair, Sherlock hijacked the facilities computer. Getting the password was easy, the helpful unconscious assistant conveniently left it on a post-it note. "Where are you Dr. Hooper?", he mutters while quickly scrolling the employees information. Dr. Hooper has been scheduled to take over as chief of the facility in a week's time. Sherlock wanted to smash the computer. It didn't say where she was now and Molly did not update her current address with the system. Aha! There was a mobile phone number listed ; and Sherlock's spirit's lifted. The number was local which means she had a point of contact in US. That was all he needed. And then the world blacked out for Sherlock Holmes.

He woke up tied to a pillar, shirt off. It was the cold that woke him up. Gritting his teeth he made an effort to lift his sore head to view the surroundings. Darkness with slivers of light cutting though. "Basement, construction area", he thought. "Not very creative but it does the job". Two beings materialized from the dark, one clutching a crowbar and another carrying a video recorder. This was not helping his search with Molly. The beings were dressed entirely in black, Sherlock could barely make out the tattoo showing at the edge of the sleeve belonging to the one with the video camera. Something was very uncanny about the pair, they moved in silence but in perfect coordination. Sherlock watched the one with the crowbar study him. The other being was setting the video camera, once done, the last thing Sherlock saw was the crowbar being raised.

Molly woke up with a jolt. She didn't know where she was for a minute. Then the world came down, fitting in its usual disjointed pieces. She didn't remember the dream, only that someone was in pain. And most likely that would have been her. The sudden squeal of tires on her driveway jolted her out of bed. No one knew that she was here! She ran to the living room and took cover behind a wall first. Didn't want whoever outside to see her silhouette from the window. She heard a car door open and started look around the room in search of a weapon. After a minute, she heard a car door slam and being driven off in a admirable speed. She took a steadying breath. Moved a slight portion of the curtain to check and what she saw made her heart stop for the second time in two days.


	13. Chapter 13

**Greetings! A big thank you for those who stopped by to review the story so far. I know some of you might have guess some parts of this chapter but that's ok. I will try to have more surprises next (don't know if they'll be pleasant though!)**

**Y'all are lovely people : Not-Knowing-Is-Everything, BelieverofManyThings, Amber, Renaissancebooklover108, Monirosez and Sepideh-the-sister. Thanks for taking the time to review. Now back to story! **

Sherlock bloody Holmes. Molly couldn't believe her eyes. She probably shouldn't be so surprised. "I'm sure he really needed me to fake something again for him", she retorted. The sight of the man she loved all bloodied somehow just pissed Molly off. Why couldn't she just be left alone? Running to the driveway where the sprawled detective lay, she noticed dried blood in his scalp, nose and his arm has seen better days. He was still breathing but Molly wasn't entirely that she was happy about that right now. She left London because _him_! The last thing she wanted in the universe was him to be fucking delivered to her bloody doorstep! "Come on Sherlock, since you've decided to visit can we please use the cabin? I'd much rather yell at you indoors", and she tried to help him up.

Maine, conversation at a payphone...

"Second shipment delivered. First shipment still unopened. Scheduled to be viewed tonight." The line went dead.

Mi-woods, Maine...

She refused to take him to her bed. The sofa was good enough. She got out her first aid kit and washed her hands. Sherlock was laid out on the couch. He hasn't said a word yet. Silently she took what she need from the kit and sat at the edge of the coffee table. She proceed to clean his wounds and treat them. This part was easy because the doctor in her kicked in. It was when the clinical side disappeared that she would fumble. "Not anymore Sherlock. Not anymore", she quietly swore in her head. He was hurt but the wounds were made to incapacitate for a temporary period. This was a professional job. Molly didn't see any marks or wounds that suggested a emotional response was triggered. This was pre-meditated and almost clinical. She gave him a dose of painkillers and he slept. He hadn't said a word nor opened his eyes though the process. Molly felt all sorts of emotions ready to burst through the surface. "Get a grip Molly", she whispered and walked out the cabin.

London...

"How could you have agreed to this John?", asked a clearly very pissed off Mycroft. "Moriaty could be launching an attack in this soil and the one person that could have captured him is running around in another country chasing some girl!"

Mi-woods, Maine,

Her earphones stuck firmly in her ears, she blasted Five Finger Death Punch on her IPod. Fuck the universe, she was going for a run. Sherlock was still sleeping but she locked the doors of the cabin, just in case. Her feet was hitting the gravel and soon she was in another world. Running far far away.


	14. Chapter 14

**Greetings! Last chapter of the day, won't promise updates tomorrow but reviews might change my mind :)**

Chapter 14

Sherlock Holmes gingerly opened his eyes. Ice picks were being stabbed at the back of his eyeballs. His arms felt stiff and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. He saw Molly Hooper sitting in a couch opposite him, her gaze telling him she was far away. She's been running recently, she was still wearing her sports socks and her earphones were dangling off the coffee table. "How are you feeling?", he heard a quiet voice ask. He met her eyes, and managed to say "I'm fine. How did I get here?". She gave a small smirk and retorted, "The people who dumped you at my doorstep probably didn't think things through when they decided to kidnap you."

He gave a hard stare and asked "They dumped me here? Someone has been keeping tabs on your whereabouts Molly. Of course, it would have been easier if you would have stayed in England. Why haven't you answered my calls? Why did you get rid of the SIM Card? What were you running away from?!", questions kept bursting from Sherlock. His head had tiny pins poking from his brains and the pain was getting worse by the minute. Molly gripped her armrest and replied with strained patience in a quiet voice, "Where I go is of no concern of _yours _Sherlock Holmes. I answer to _no one_ but myself. I wasn't aware my life in London was at _your_ beck and call! I was trying to get _my_ life back! I was tired of your games with me, Irene Adler, Janine and God knows how many other women that you've used. I ran because I was probably the most used among that lot of women! Just because I love you does not blind me to the fact that you are _incapable_ of loving anything or anyone!". She was on her feet, breathing hard trying to control all the pent up anger.

Taking a deep breath, she calmly said, "Now, if you wish Mr. Holmes help yourself if you need anything in the kitchen. The second bedroom is available for you tonight. I want you gone by tomorrow", and with that she walked to her room and shut the door softly. She couldn't bear to look into his eyes any longer. The hurt in those eyes were almost successful in breaking all her resolve. Almost.

She walked to her bed and found the mysterious package on it. She left it there after she attended to Sherlock's wounds. Realizing that she can't be running away from everything, she sat on the bed and started to open the package. There was a DVD in a blank cover. Switching on her notebook, she placed it in the player. She hesitated for a second before hitting the play button. The screen began in black for a while and the light shone on a figure tied in a chair. She wouldn't have recognized him if it was not for the black hair and ice blue eyes. She screamed.


	15. Chapter 15

**:) As promised, if you want more..reviews are the key! But I will try to update a few more chapters by today.**

Chapter 15

"Molly!", Sherlock burst into the room ignoring his injuries. He rushed to her side and caught a glimpse of a man in an executioner's mask sawing the neck of a man strapped to a chair on the notebook's screen. Molly was practically incoherent now; Sherlock slammed the notebook shut and took her in his arms. She was going into shock.

Undisclosed location...

He received a message.

Unknown number: First shipment viewed. Awaiting confirmation on third shipment.

This put him in a delightful mood. The thought of little Molly watching his gift gave him a high drugs wouldn't be able to provide. Now _this_ meant he could start his mini games in London. "So John, that leaves you all alone in big bad London. Oh! I forgot, you have a wife too. Do you think she'd like to join us on our date?", Moriarty grinned and made a call.

Mi-woods, Maine...

They hadn't slept. Molly was huddled in his arms and Sherlock held her. No words were exchanged. He was worried about the doctor; she kept rubbing her knuckles and humming, tears streaming endlessly down her pale cheeks. He'd see the ripped covering of the package. Addressed to "My dear Vesper". So Molly Hooper had been known by this name. When and why? Who was the man being murdered in the video? Sherlock knew Molly was not squeamish (she was a pathologist for God's sake!) hence her reaction to the video was extreme. It was as it she knew the man tied to the chair. Having her so close to him brought make memories of their night together. He quickly stamped that down and took a steadying breath. He did not need to be reminded of _that _now. "Ashton..", she whispered softly, those soft brown eyes glazed with pain and tears. He stiffened when he heard the name but let it pass for now. "Sleep Molly", he whispered, kissing her temple but not taking any other liberties. "We will sort this out in a few hours. Sleep now."


	16. Chapter 16

**Now, this might leave you a bit frustrated and wanting more. Good.. :) persuade me lovely people, that _you_ want more ;D **

Chapter 16

Molly looked at the sleeping figure of Sherlock Holmes. He still held her even though his arms must be hurting. This was the second time she has seen him sleep. _That_ night. Where Sherlock Holmes finally realized he was mortal. From the minute he had asked for her help in St. Barts, their relationship had never been the same again. At least not for her. The night after she had rescued him, they were at her apartment. The most logical choice to hole in since everyone close to Sherlock would have not wanted to disturb love stuck Molly Hooper after the object of her desire had killed himself.

Molly's apartment, London, night after the Fall...

_Molly quietly left Sherlock in her guest bedroom and walked to her room. She didn't want to bother him anymore than required. She shakily sat down her bed and thought about was done today. If the ploy was ever made public she can kiss her career goodbye. "But, I couldn't say no. I never can to him", she breathed. Massaging her stiff neck, she decided on a hot shower, a glass of scotch (she loved scotch but only on special occasions she allowed herself to indulge) and since this was a pretty darn special day she was going to have as many glasses as she liked. Sighing, she got up and threw off her clothes. She probably would never wear this blouse and pants again. Switched on her shower to hot and stepped in. The water soothed her aching muscles and pounding head. _

_Sherlock had been staring at the wall for a good hour. It was painted a classy grey-blue and the room had tasteful wood furniture. Molly Hooper surprised him at times. He knew that next to John, he owed her the most. If the workings of his ploy ever see the light of day, Sherlock would be famous and Molly Hooper would never work again. He was still surprised that she agreed to help him. After all that he has said to her (John kept reminding him what an asshole he is) she still stood by him. Sherlock didn't like that lump forming in his throat while thinking this._

_She toweled herself dry and donned a ex-boyfriend shirt (she loved wearing men's shirt, so comfortable if you're at home) and since the shirt reached her knees she didn't bother with anything else except her prized thick cotton yukata. Sherlock would be holed up in the guest room anyway since he wasn't big on things like food or drink so she walked out. And rammed into a very hard male chest. "What the hell?! Sherlock, what are you doing standing here?", she spluttered pushing herself away from him. "Why did you help me?", his deep voice asked. Annoyed with him and his silly question, she pushed past him and said over her shoulder "You know why Sherlock, so stop asking stupid questions. Get some rest" and stalked to her precious liquor cabinet ; completely ignoring him. There was a 18 year single malt scotch with her name on it._


	17. Chapter 17

**Now, this might leave you a bit frustrated and wanting more. Good.. :) persuade me lovely people, that you want more ;D **

Chapter 17

_"__**Why **__Molly?", the question was asked again. Forcefully. But Molly had enough of Sherlock Holmes for the day. Damn it, she couldn't find her scotch! Sherlock was at her back, fuming at being ignored. She wondered what brought this on. It was obvious why she helped him. Sighing, she decided to dig into her reserve. Her prized Green Label ; nothing like a sell-your-soul expensive bottle of blended scotch to soothe the tormented soul. Getting the precious bottle out of the cabinet, she turned to him and said "Now, you can join me for a drink and act like an adult or you can leave me alone to get drunk Sherlock. Your choice. Stop asking me questions you know the answers to", and she disappeared to the kitchen. Sherlock wanted to yell and throw something but he was distracted by her barely covered bare long legs. _

_Shaking some sense into his head he threw himself into her couch, seated as far away from the kitchen as he possibly could manage. This was a different Molly. She walked in with two glasses, put one on the coffee table near him (it had a generous amount of scotch, the lovely caramel liquid blinking fire in the dimly lit living area) and walked into her room with her glass and the bottle of Green Label. He couldn't believe Molly Hooper was ignoring him! She who seemed to worship him from ground up! What had happened to sweet innocent Molly?! Taking a swing from the glass, the liquid gold gave his center a warm glow. Damn that woman knew how to pick her scotch. He finished his drink and walked to her room. Hesitated for a moment, then opened the door. _

_She was seated at edge of her bed, nursing her scotch, looking into her bedroom window. It seemed like she was searching for something in the night sky. It was a dark night, there was no light of any kind in the London sky. Sherlock had never seen her like this before. She looked..lost. All of a sudden he was hit by a desire to feel her in his arms. He wanted to touch her. Sherlock had never been so surprised in his life. _

_Molly was worlds away, thinking of everything and nothing. She didn't want to think of the past, the past she has tried so hard to run away from. She didn't want to think of the present or the future either. It seemed that she keep wanting to experience oblivion for a while. A space of time where she didn't feel hurt, loss, longing or regret. Coming out of her reverie, she took another swallow of the drink. It was heavenly. Then realized that her bedroom door was open and the figure of Sherlock Holmes was looming by her bed._


	18. Chapter 18

**Mini warning for this chapter, just read with a open mind please. Now, this might leave you a bit frustrated and wanting more. Good.. :) persuade me lovely people, that you want **_**more**_** ;D **

Chapter 18

_And there he stands. They weren't kidding when they said "object of desire". Who wouldn't desire Sherlock Holmes? "But no Molly Hooper, you couldn't just be happy with desiring him. You started to __**love **__him. As if you don't have enough pain in your life", that quiet voice in her head said in a matter-of-fact tone. Sometimes that voice spoke without her permission. Especially when alcohol was involved. She was tired. Tired of wanting and hoping. She knew Sherlock would never love or desire her. So she asked in a neutral tone "Did you want something Sherlock? There's more scotch on the dresser. Help yourself" and she turned away, facing the window again. If only he could leave her alone for a while. _

_He walked to the dresser to get the bottle. Then sat down on her bed; taking a swing right out of the bottle. Molly was contemplating murder; it was a free pass since he was already dead in the outside world. "Leave me Sherlock. Please." But the plea fell on deaf ears. Gripping her glass tightly, she flung it to the opposite wall and it smashed to pieces. Sherlock got up with a start "And what was that for Molly?", he asked sarcastically. Then he realized her hand was cut by one of the sharp pieces that she was still gripping. She cracked the glass with her grip. Molly was staring at her hand in surprise, but showed no reaction to indicate she was in pain._

_She felt the droplets of blood drip to the floor and felt...better. The pain and the release of blood seemed to somehow ease the bottled up emotions. She was surprised and somehow unsettled by this, but the relief was so..good. Before Sherlock could say or do anything she used the same piece of glass that cut her hand and deliberately made another cut unto her arm. In a flash he grabbed the hand that held the piece of glass and snarled "What's the matter with you Molly?!". He took the offending piece and threw it to the area where she flung the glass. And marched her to the bathroom to get the cut cleaned. She obeyed without question for now; the feeling of release was too precious to her._

_The cuts weren't deep, but Sherlock subjected her to cleaning them with iodine. Still, she didn't say a word. Sherlock couldn't believe he'd just seen Molly Hooper harm herself. Has he brought so much pain into her life? Without thinking, he pulled her closed and kissed her. They weren't prepared for the fireworks._


	19. Chapter 19

**Teaser! **

Chapter 19

A lone figure watches the apartment. It knows of the two people inside, it knows that the one that should be dead is still breathing. Anger blinds it temporarily. It wants to walk into the home and slaughter. Wants to taste the blood and stamp out life. It doesn't turn away when the two shadows from the bedroom window mesh to be one. It holds on to the precious hate and fury as the man scoops down and carries the woman to her bed. It drips venom and blood to the wet pavement, then walks away. "This is the cornerstone of your doom, Sherlock Holmes. The fallen angels will weep tears of blood when I'm done with you".

_They made love. A woman who had lost and loved and a man that found his mortality. She didn't want to. She told herself that this was the freeway to hell and she was already on a fast car heading there. But Molly knew she'd rather suffer through the fire and brimstone than have regretted them not being together. That kiss that was the final drop of water that broke the dam. In his arms she was no more the fumbling, clumsy schoolgirl; death, blood and just plain despair enhanced her desperate need. And ignited his. _


	20. Chapter 20

**Reviews please ? :) **

Chapter 20

M—woods, Maine..

Sherlock stirs awake to find Molly still in arms. She is staring at the ceiling, the look in her eyes telling him she's far away. He gently wipes the tears that drips from her soft pale cheeks. "Tell me", he says quietly.

"We were engaged, he left for an assignment and never came back. Now the mystery is solved", her voice broke at the end of the sentence. "Molly, Moriarty is alive", he quietly breathed, bracing for a panicked response. She just took a breath and replied "That explains the package, then. No, Sherlock it doesn't surprise me now. I had a suspicion he was the reason for the package and when you were dumped here. Question is, what do we do now?" she turned her face to look at him.

"What was his name? Do you know what his job was?" he asked ignoring her question. "Commander Ashton Lynd and no, he didn't discuss his occupation. He was with the military, that's all he wanted me to know."

"I'll get Mycroft to look into it. In the meantime, I _need_ to you to come with me. Molly I cannot bring Moriarty down with you out in the open for him to hurt", he tightend his arms around her. She looked him in the eyes and said "Why now Sherlock? Why do you care about what happens to me now when what you do to me is sometimes worse?". He flinched a little.

Molly's Apartment, night of the fall…

_For once his mind was quiet. He didn't want to think, he just needed to feel her. On him, around him and in him. She tried to push him away but some locked up primal urge was released in him. She was forcefully pulled back into his arms. Scooping down to carry her, he placed her on the bed, ignoring the shards of broken glass on the floor. The cotton yukata went flying across the room, and so did his shirt. She pulled him downwards by the neck and kissed him. She delighted in feeling his hard chest as he savored her infinite softness. Biting the side of her neck, he heard her gasp. Not happy with her only piece of clothing, he ripped the shirt off. Didn't really like another man's shirt on her. He feasted his fevered eyes on her naked flesh, she was beautiful. That's when she reached for his trousers… _


	21. Chapter 21

**Reviews please? :) **

Chapter 21

Try as he may, he could not hold on to his temper. "What do you suggest I do? Leave you to do whatever you want? Because _you_ have not made any smart decisions since you decided to leave London. Must I _spell out_ the danger that you already know Moriarty can cause? Pack your bags _immediately _Molly, we are leaving."

She looked at him calmly, as if she was expecting this outrageous outburst. They were at the kitchen, she was nursing a hot cup of coffee. She gripped the handle a little tighter, fighting the urge to throw the hot liquid at his insensitive being. She took a sip and turned to her favorite window in the cabin. The lake was dark and still, the sky a gunmetal grey. "Please leave Sherlock. We have nothing between us for you to be here and whatever Moriarty does will not affect me or you. I hold no threat over you because I have never meant anything to you and I never will. I've given up trying to make myself worthy of notice for you, so please don't worry. You can leave with your conscience clear of any responsibility of me". She leaves him in the kitchen, battling his sudden urge to show him how much _she_ meant to _him_.

Night after the fall…

_His hands tangled in the soft silk mess of her hair. She smelled of vanilla and bergamot and he couldn't get enough. "Sherlock", he heard her whisper. "We don't..have to do this". He stopped the delicious torture he was inflicting on her breasts and caught her chin with his free hand. Kissing her once for every word, "Yes Molly, we have to. I __**need**__ you."_

_All doubt now lost, she abandoned herself in him. He inched his way down her body, leaving a love bite on the inside of her thigh. Her moans was his salvation and he was rapidly learning the many ways to make her sing for him. He grasped her arm and kissed her wounds gently while looking into her doe brown eyes. Her eyes grew wide when his lips came stained red from the cuts and when he licked her blood from his lips, she nearly begged him to take her there and now…._


	22. Chapter 22

A year after Ashton disappeared, Molly got a job as an assistant pathologist. She knew she would never move on if she didn't follow that one cardinal rule she set up for herself. To never dwell on Ashton and the what ifs. She stored all the pain and loss in a box that had been never opened fully. Not till yesterday. All at once, she could hear his voice, his hands around her waist, his smile warming her heart. It was nothing less than cruel because after the warmth came the lasting cold.

Sherlock didn't understand this and she didn't blame him completely for this. He had never loved and lost. Certainly not like this. She couldn't think of anyone who had gone though the shit she had. And the cherry on the fucking sundae was that Moriarty was involved in her life even before he knew Sherlock. She didn't doubt the fact that the video had come from him. It took a special kind of evil to send the recording to her and Moriarty had that sort of evil in him. She was so very exhausted with life and the fuck ups she kept getting into. Molly was just setting her cup of coffee on the table in the living room when the doorbell rang.

Unknown number: Third shipment delivered.

Unknown number: Acknowledged. Continue surveillance.

_Night of the Fall..._

_He had never been with a woman before. He expected to falter or back off because of his inexperience and he would have if he had been thinking. But for once, his brain was silent and his soul awake. He'd kissed her deeply; the taste of her blood on his tongue. She moaned from the back of her throat, her hands deeply imbedded in his silky hair. Somehow along the way all annoying pieces of clothing had been shed to the floor and they were fusing together, skin to skin. He found her moist bundle of nerves with his fingers and watched her moan and her eyes dilate. She wanted _**_him. _**_Feeling her body respond to his touch was so intoxicating he had to restrain himself. He wanted to savour every inch, every second and every racing heartbeat. Kissing her taut stomach, he left a wet trail of kisses till he found that delightful bundle of nerves. His kisses brought her to the edge. Before he could continue with more of the lovely torture, she sat up and pulled him closed. "I need you now. Please, Sherlock"..._

Maine..

Molly opened the door cautiously. There was no one there but a package wrapped in brown paper on the welcome mat. Opening the door a little wider, she bent to check if it had been addressed to anyone. She heard ticking and after a breath, a flash of light. Molly lost consciousness as she was thrown back into the hallway. The explosion bought Sherlock into the living room just in time for him to see Molly crash into a wall. Then debris of glass and wood hit the detective propelling him to hit a wooden pillar. Silence then accompanied the trail of fire that started to feast on the cabin.


	23. Chapter 23

_Night after the Fall.._

_They looked at each other. There was no turning away this time; face to face, ice grey eyes met soft brown ones and for once there was unmasked desire in both eyes . They kissed, long and hard, pulling each other close. He realized that he could not wait, __**this **__could not wait any longer. Pushing her down to the mattress, he broke the kiss and slid his lips to her earlobe and bit her neck right under lobe. He hesitated a little, momentarily not knowing how to achieve what the both wanted. The hesitation drew an impatient moan from her so she pushed him to the side to mount him. One hand gripping his muscled chest, another guiding his hardness to her core, she let him slide slowly into her. The pleasure was intense for both of them, she paused to get used to his full hard length and him...he now understood why men fell at the feet of women. A growl erupted in the back of his throat and he pulled her to him and got up from the bed; her thighs gripping his waist. He flipped them over and he slipped in deeper into her, drawing moans from them both. He gripped her velvet hair in a fist and pulled, giving him free access to her neck. The kisses then turned into bites which caused her nails to leave trails on his back. She demanded more, he willingly gave whatever she needed. His arms moved to cradle her, holding her closer and he lost himself in her sweet, warm center. Death and loss were potent companions; he wanted to lose himself in her completely and never wanted to return. She in turn sensed his desperation and matched it with her own; she was so close to the edge but would not leap without him. But his thrusting became increasingly erratic and she encouraged him by grasping his hips tighter to her; she bit into his shoulder, drawing blood and this let loose a snarl from him. Going for her lips he kissed her, biting her lips slightly; punishing her for the bite…._

Mi-Woods, Maine..

The fire burns slow but its steady in pace Tendrils of molten gold flow on the polished wood floor, powdered glass drifting in the air; sparkling beautifully in the sunlight and fire. The woman lay in an unnatural angle, her neck bent downwards and her limbs twisted around her. Broken glass dots her face, it's also laced in her scalp and lovely brown hair. Drops of blood start pooling on the floor, mixing with the debris. She was not breathing.


End file.
